


Close Your Eyes (And Catch Me)

by DarthSuki



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Biting, Chases, Consensual, F/M, Fear Play, Kevin is Inhuman, M/M, Multi, Predator/Prey, Semi-Public Sex, Teeth, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: It's just a little game, a simple game. You try to make it home after work before Kevin catches you. What will he do if he does?You're not quite sure whether it frightens or excites you more.





	1. Chapter 1

The evening air feels so cool against your skin, like a brush of fingertips carefully up your arm, over your shoulder and across your cheek. It feels like a kiss as it follows you from place to place, no building seeming to break it–the wind follows you everywhere you go and you’re not quite sure if it’s ever done that before.

The sun has dipped beneath the horizon. It’s light flickers down the line of low mountains surrounding the town, leaving everything in shadow even as the sky itself radiates a warm symphony of reds and oranges that fade into blue and black. A couple stars are visible on the opposite side of the sky, peaking out shyly among the dark void. It’s hard not to feel like they’re watching you, each and every step as you hurry from one sidewalk to the next.

The game has only been going for half an hour, but you’ve already managed to get halfway home without any issues. If anything, the peace and quiet is unnerving, the lack of threat only making your paranoia reach farther out from yourself so that every shift of shadows, every rustle of branches, every breeze of air deserves your entire attention. Fear has a hold of you, laced tightly through your body–it leaves you feeling tense, so tense, each step like trying to move a mountain.

It’s a balance between hiding and moving, making sure to look back over your shoulder every minute or so just to quell the bubbling fear in your belly. The echo of Kevin’s voice simmers below your thoughts, a constant reminder etched in an unforgettable state so you know exactly what is at stake between the two of you.

With the curl of his smile and the vaguely-hidden lilting tone of his words, he looked like a hungry wolf.

“Get home before I catch you.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, it wasn’t an idea: it was a command, simple and stern and chilling to the bones.

Kevin didn’t let you ponder on the implications of what would happen if he happened to catch you, and perhaps its better that way, to let your mind whip and wander on the thoughts of ‘what if’ that keep you paranoid between each and every turn of your eyes over your shoulder.

The breeze is soft against your cheeks, caressing your form. Without the sun to keep it warm it feels cool, nearing chilly. The sky starts to look darker when you take momentary refuge at an intersection, red and orange chased further away by darkness and stars. It hangs above your head like a blanket, chasing away the daylight.

You can’t help but feel like a child in those cold moments, waiting for the walk signal to flip–you’re a child playing a game and hiding under that very blanket of darkness, hoping to stay out of sight of the big bad beast before reaching the assured, familiar safety of your apartment.

_ “Get home before I catch you.” _

The words send a shiver down your spine. 

Little by little you get closer, you’re just a few streets away from the apartment complex. Crossing intersections are eating up the most of your time, making you wait longer and longer before you can pass safely over the newly-paved roads. Laws prohibiting jaywalking have been strictly enforced–you don’t want to be the unfortunate soul caught halfway over the street and forced to answer why you’re trying to hurry home.

So close, you’re just so close to home that you can almost smell the fragrance of the air, something so distinctly of home that there’s no longer any other label for it. Your legs itch to move, to carry you across the street, but the walk sign seems to take forever to switch over.

Ten seconds pass, no switch. Another ten seconds and still no shift, no flicker that gave you legal and polite passage across the intersection. It leaves you feeling more and more exposed, out in the open and–

watched?

You feel watched, or at least you feel more aware of the sensation as it sends a shiver down your back. After a turn of cautious eyes, you find nothing behind you. Nothing to your left. Nothing to your right.

Despite the fact that you are visibly alone, the feeling of unnerved observation can’t be shaken off.

It’s there, pressing against the back of your head like a nail, sharp and obvious. You can’t ignore it anymore, the sensation grows stronger with every second that you stand by the intersection and wait for the light to change--why isn’t it changing?

Maybe--maybe another intersection, maybe this one isn’t working properly. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened. Desert Bluffs, or at least the one you reside in currently in the desert otherworld separate from the standard plane of reality, is still quite a new town with plenty of it’s own issues from such a quick creation. Lights are still understanding how to work, after all, so it’s not anything that seems too out of the ordinary for an intersection to stop working.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

It’s just a coincidence.

It takes you down a longer pathway home, down an extra street heading to the back-end of the residential district. All it means is that you’ll have to cut through a few neighborhood streets to come back to your complex instead of coming right to the main gate entrance is all, nothing much to worry about outside of the extra five or ten minutes of walking.

It doesn’t take long before that same unnerving feeling starts to bubble up in your stomach again, seeping into your bones and leaving you feeling so  _ vulnerable _ .

So watched.

You quicken your pace to a not-quite-jog, something around a power walk that makes you feel as silly as you are cautious, glancing at your surroundings every few seconds to see if every shadow lay dormant and every figure--

-wait.

You’re alone.

The thoughts and fears of being watched and getting home pushed away the realization, but now it’s at the forefront of your mind, seeping into every nook and cranny of fear that leaves your eyes wide and your breath a little faster over your lips.

You’re alone.

There’s nobody else around you--no passersby on the sidewalk, no lights in the windows of nearby homes, just...nothing. Nothing at all to give you the feeling that there are other living people, leaving you with the notion, however brief, that you’re simply in a ghost town. The fear has worked into your chest and up your throat, constricting and tight and fast as the beat of your heart--it threatens to break out from against your ribcage as the fear only continues to grow.

The other intersection is the same as the first, unblinking and unmoving in letting you pass by. It’s as if the very lights taunt you with their power, keeping you from crossing what might as well be a river of torrential strength. Just one major road to cross and you will be home free, in the most literal and figurative of forms. 

You stand and wait, shaking as the fear overcomes your ability to muffle it, trying to capture together your anarchy of thoughts and figure out if there’s a third path to take.

You’re somewhere in the middle of existential dread and the total acceptance of your fate when you hear it.

A footstep.

A breath.

You feel a brush of  _ something _ against your hip, just barely, a shadow of pressure that you’re not quite sure if it’s real or merely imagined.

It doesn’t matter--you run, bolting without care of laws or rules or anything else. Like the very prey in which you play the role in this game you let your legs take you forward, across the road and onto the sidewalk at the other side. You don’t stop or turn around, filled with nothing but terror at what you might find behind you,  _ following you. _

Time seems to stretch to unmeasurable lengths, seconds lasting minutes, minutes lasting hours--the sprint to your apartment feels like nothing short of an eternity. You do your best not to pay attention to the shadows in the corners of your vision, nor the way they seem to flicker as you pass by.

The lights of the apartment building is a welcome sight. The glow of the lights cast softly down over your face and across the sidewalk, illuminating your last dozen yards or so before you’ll be able to turn at your building, scurry to the stairs and hurry up to the second floor where your home lay.

Safety is nearly within your grasp.

Speed nearly becomes your downfall as you turn the corner a bit too sharply, foot catching on a slightly bit of the sidewalk and sending you stumbling forward. Your heart’s in overdrive, adrenaline pumping, and luck allows you at least to catch the bottom of the hand rail to keep yourself from falling flat on your face on the bottom several steps of the stairs.

It costs you a few seconds, but a few seconds is all it takes to feel it again.

A footstep.

A breath.

You feel someone behind you, directly behind you even in the silent air. You feel the terrifying notion that there’s something flickering, a darkness and shadow just outside of your field of view--if you were to turn your head one way or the other you’d see it, an indescribable terror so powerful that it’s haunting presence is seeping into your thoughts.

All you can think about is running, getting away and to the safety of your apartment. 

Your legs take you up the stairs two at a time, constantly feeling as if you’re about to trip, but it hardly matters against the feeling of that presence all but nipping at your heels. If you stop for even a moment, a fraction of a moment, then you know it will be upon you.

Your heart is hammering against your chest so hard that it almost hurts. The adrenaline feels like you’ve been dumped into an ice-filed tub, shocking you into movement driven solely by instinct and fear. Up to the top of the stairs and immediately to your right, a short hallway that ends with the relieving sight of the front door and-

Oh no.

The realization doesn’t settle into your thoughts until you’re a few hurried steps away.

It’s locked. Oh gods, it’s locked, you’re gonna have to stop and pull out the keys in order to get inside. The feeling of relief for your supposed refuge changes instantly to nothingness, cold as void in the face of something you had sorely neglected to consider, something you may have thought of if the last sprint wasn’t tailed by the very thing you’re afraid of.

“No, no no nonononono-” the words fall from your lips in a rushed mantra of dejected horror. 

Despite the futility of the motion, one of your hands immediately reach to your pocket as shoes nearly skid to a stop just in front of the door. You’re so close, you almost have it, the keys are in your hands and you see the right one.

You have it between your fingers, reaching towards the bolt on the door-

**_“I’ve got you, dearest.”_ **

The voice fills your ears only a breath before you feel something wrap around your ankles and wrists, tugging you back so fast that the keys fly from your hands and fall uselessly to the ground in front of the door.

You’re tugged back firm, but not hard enough that you lose your balance--it still immobilizes you from moving, from even struggling against the grip of not-quite-visible tendrils of cool, smoothing nothingness. There’s a sudden presence against your back, body solid and warm in contrast to the grip of your arms. 

“You’re really good at running, but I wouldn’t let you get away from me,” The voice purrs, familiar and soft and reaching down deep to your core. “To think you were so close from the end! But a deal is a deal, dearest, and you’ve lost this  _ little game _ of ours.”

Hands press to your hips as he speaks, pulling you back against his body. Kevin’s lips press to the nape of your neck. His breath tickles against your skin. You can’t move, but you don’t need to move to feel the way your body is already reacting to the firm promise grinding needly against your ass.

Fear and arousal are so easy to get mixed up in moments like this. They whirl together, two sides of the same coin, dripping through your mind until you’re not sure which is which anymore.

But maybe that’s the point.

“I feel your heartbeat--it’s so fast.”

It’s spoken with such genuine amusement, such heat and pride that it’s not a question--it’s a statement, a very true one at that. Adrenaline is still pumping through your body, though it’s fueling arousal more than anything else, so much that you feel your legs start to shake beneath your own weight.

Even though your mouth feels dry, you try to speak.

“What--” the word cracks a little. “What are you gonna do with me?”

It lingers for a moment before you feel more than hear Kevin’s giggle, the caress of lips and teeth against the nape of your neck that feel vaguely in the shape of a too-wide smile.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “I’m going to do _ anything  _ and  _ everything _ I want with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

A moan escapes you in swift, unfiltered reply. From the press of Kevin's hips to the firm control of his inethreal limbs wrapped securely around yours, you're not exactly in a place to disagree with his desires. The visions of being at his mercy, the reality of being nothing more than captured prey beneath the gaze of a hungry beast--it leaves your legs weak and your body shivering in a deep, primal delight.

“H-Here?”

The question itself is shaking, fearful and excited by the notion that Kevin could just fuck you right here, right up against the door to the apartment without a care or feeling of shame to the world around the both of you.

Kevin answers your soft, broken question with his hands instead of with words, reaching to the front of your pants to undo them in a slow, measured motion. You have every moment available to tell him to stop, but you don’t. Excitement fills your veins instead of fear as you feel him pull your pants down your hips and, eventually, followed by your underwear. The clothing pools around your ankles as eager hands move to map the exposed skin.

“I've always wanted to fuck you like this,” the man says, voice deep and enunciating the word ‘fuck’ like the sound in itself is arousing--he’s not wrong I'm that regard. “To have you in my grasp, panting and writhing for me all needy and cute where someone might see.”

He takes a step forward, shifting your bodies together in unison. Then he takes another step, and a third, pressing you forward until you’re almost pressed against the door, wrists pulled up by unseen forces against your doing and palms flat against the cool wooden surface.

All it takes is a hand against your lower back to lean you forward, ass jutting out behind you in what must look like an offering--with your pants still pooled around your ankles, it’s hard to feel anything but a blissful combination of embarrassed and excited, especially as you feel cool, delicate pressure caress up between your thighs.

Your breath catches as it moves higher, stopping just short of where you want it, where you  _ need _ it to press and squirm against your skin.

“Kevin I-”

“ _ Don’t look at me. _ ”

The command is hard and cold, a delicate balance that leaves you frozen for a moment as your brain catches up to the words and forces you to make sure your forehead is pressed to the door, eyes shut tight so all you can do is feel and hear him. His voice. His touch.

Hands and tendrils of shadows all over you, surrounding you in ways that leave you aching for more.

This isn’t the first time he’s asked you not to look. You recognize the shift in his voice, teetering on something completely inhuman. He all but coos in that voice, soft and sweet despite the sharp edge to every word, the very tone as if coming from another plane of reality and echoing through to your ears.

“That’s a good mate, dearest. You always listen to me don’t you? Yes, you listen so well…”

Both of his hands are on your hips, fingertips pressing hard into your skin and holding you still, as if the other forces of pressure aren’t already.

A tendril squirms between your legs, the very tip lapping against your entrance and heat. Is it wet? It’s hard to tell, but it’s slick and cold to the touch, delighting you in a way you can’t quite place. It slips inside you without warning, easing you open with it’s tapered length and easily pulling a low but tense whimper from your lips.

“Ke...vin…!”

You feel the tendril squirm deeper inside you, thick and perfect and rubbing against every inch of you without issue. Kevin’s body stiffens at the sound of your voice. There’s teeth against the nape of your neck again, so many teeth (too many teeth), but it’s his voice that delights you the absolute most.

“Say that again,” he growls, lips and teeth pressing harder against your neck. “My name--say my name again, louder.”

“Kevin…”

“ **_Louder_ ** **.** ”

You shake, but his name comes out only as a useless string of letters that barely sound correct. It’s so hard to think already, bent forward and under the man’s merciless focus. Your knees start to wobble, feeling weak as the tendril begins to slip out and back inside you, pace hard and quick and spilling stars against the back of your eyelids.

One moan after another fills the air honest pleasure, heat building up within your belly as Kevin seems happy to tease you with nothing more than his voice and unseen, shadowy, but unmistakably thick tentacle of nothingness opening you wide and thrusting in deep.

He growls, deep and possessive, and you can feel razor-sharp teeth skim dangerously across your shoulders. You want to look back, to glance for even a moment at the face settled just behind you, but the command echoes deep in the back of your mind that it’s almost a mantra in its own right alongside everything else.

_ Do. Not. Look. _

You're not even sure what you'd see if you did, what hides behind the patchwork of a human visage he wears. There's only so much that you can assume, going only by the dark shift of his voice and the shadowy tendrils gripping tight around your wrists and ankles. They feel thick and cold to the touch, but not so much that its bothersome--it's simply a stark, almost exhilarating difference in temperature.

Your body writhes as eagerly as the tendril does inside you, rubbing up against all the right spots until you're shaking. You barely have the strength to stand anymore, relying completely on the door in front of you and Kevin's inethreal hold on your limbs to keep you from falling into a heap.

“K-K-Kev-” the name sounds useless and broken on your lips, but you hope he gets the message when you press your ass back against him, against the pressure deep inside you. “Ahh, please, please more~”

Against your doing your ankles shift, legs spreading wider apart in active encouragement of the beautiful, perverse motions happening between them. It’s slick and thick and teasing you endlessly, never quite pressing you to the edge but not quite letting you relax, a back and forth motion of pleasure leaving you gasping and mentally grappling for purchase on something to anchor your mind down.

“You look beautiful like this,” Kevin's voice purrs from behind you. Lips press against the shell of your ear and something wet and warm traces against your skin. “Bent over for me, moaning for me. Needing me.”

You nod without meaning to; a desperate, wordless, shameless plea of want, anything more that he cares to give you.

“You love this don't you?” 

The warm, wet feeling traces down the back of your neck. Teeth brush over one of your shoulders, so many and so sharp, obviously inhuman even though you can't see them. Hands press hard over your hips, fingertips sharp and cold against your hot skin. 

“ _ Ohhh _ yes, of course you do. You wanted me to catch you--I could smell it all over you, I can  _ still _ smell it on your skin, the yearning to be caught and bent over and bred.”

If you even had to verbal coherence to answer him, you can't deny that he's right. Every moment is a delight, every breath a gasp of delight--he toys with you like a plaything, twists the tendril against your warm, tight channel until all you can do is shake and moan out a broken noise that vaguely sounds like his name. 

And Kevin  _ giggles _ . 

You feel his grip tighten everywhere around you, over your wrists and ankles and hips, and suddenly a quickening of that delicious pressure between your legs.

“Don’t you look so happy, dearest!” He's not mocking you, though the tone is soft and joyous, the same tone he uses for his radio show. “So, so happy--but you want more don't you? More inside you?”

You nod again in wordless desire, at a total loss for words or how they work. God you want more, just a little more--you want to feel his hips moving against you, fucking you up and against the door. There’s a certain delight in feeling that tapered, squirming tendril spread your muscles open and fill you up, but damn if you don't want to feel his speed dripping down your thighs and marking you in a way only a body can desire at the height of lust.

A face nuzzles between your shoulder blades-- _ you assume that it's Kevin's face, one of them at least _ \--and a gentle growl tickles your skin, a low murmur of words you aren’t sure that he means for you to even hear.

“More, so much more….I’ll fill up every inch of you, leave you wet and dripping and begging for me until you can’t even think.”

Emptiness starts to overcome you as the slick tendril starts to slip out from between your legs, teasing as it retreats back to somewhere behind you, somewhere among the rest of Kevin’s unknown, unseen form. You’ve never felt so empty without something inside you, so you press your hips back needily in a hope to find  _ something _ in the space behind you, hopefully even Kevin’s hips grinding in eager, mutual need.

But there’s nothing. Where there had once been a warm, solid body you only feel nothing but cold air brushing against your skin, though your limbs are still firmly restrained and unable to move. All you can do is shake in a mixture of frustration and need.

The emotions begin to cloud up in your mind, pressing against the sides of your thoughts so much that you lose yourself and you start to turn your face to look behind you--you fear that Kevin isn’t even there, that you’re alone or he’s resigned to teasing you for the rest of the evening with little more than blind touches and empty promises.

It’s only a glance.

Not even for a second, half a second--it’s but a moment of time that your face and eyes turn to catch but a glimpse of Kevin’s form.

It’s not human at all.

There’s too many details to take in all at once, but you can tell instantly that the space behind you is nothing but black void, a dull night sky without stars and covered with criss-crossed scars that transcend mortal wounds.

You see eyes and mouths in multiplicity, with sharp teeth and bright, burning yellow irises.

They stare at you in that brief, slightest moment-

“ **_No._ ** ”

And then suddenly your jaw is yanked back by an unseen force, facing forward and against the door again as a small but genuine shiver of fear works its way down your spine. It doesn’t matter how short of a glimpse you caught, the image is imprinted in your mind like a brand, a searing heat behind your eyelids of what the man has never wanted you to see of him and his true form mangled by abuse and scars.

You’re not afraid. Even as you feel that pressure on your face and jaw keeping your head still and looking forward, you don’t feel scared of him. There are so many things to be scared of in the world and he, the man who has kept you safe and loved you endlessly, is certainly not on that list.

You hope he knows that.

Whether it’s of his own decision or spurred on by your growing curiosity, a pressure finally moves up behind you--hips, his hips, grinding forward with a familiar, solid shape against the curve of your ass. It's warm and thick and perfect in the most perverse of ways, leaving you unable to hold back the soft, needy noises that work their way up your throat.

“Kevin,” the name spills like water from your choked voice. “Please. I need you-...need-” your fists clench, nails starting to dig into the layer of paint over the door they press against. “-need…”

His hips press closer, his very presence hot and suffocating in a way you can't describe and can even less understand for more than the pleasure and need rippling through your mind and body.

“What do you need dearest?” Kevin doesn't hide the hunger in his voice, distorted and sounding as if it's coming with white noise through an old radio. “I want to hear you say it,

_ beg for it _ ,

**_plead for it_ ** .”

There’s a weight against your shoulders, your back, your entire body. It weighs down your physical form as much as it does your mind with this endless and heavy darkness--it feels almost limitless, no edge or end, just pure power restrained so carefully to a point that it doesn't hurt you in the slightest. Instead, it's a comforting presence, one that presses down on all the right spots with incomprehensible levels of warmth and possessive love; you can scarcely begin to wrap your kind around it, fearing the attempt might make you go crazy.

But his words--those you can follow, hanging off the edge of each and every one in helpless abandon. 

“You,” you finally manage so sob. Your legs are--no, your entire body is shaking, left so near the edge and kept their for too long by forces just out of your ability to perceive them. “Kevin I need--I need you. Inside me.  _ You _ .”

He shifts, repositioning himself against you, hips pressed to your ass and the tip of his cock pressing and teasing against pliant muscle. It reminds you how empty you feel, how deep the yearning goes to have that thick shape inside of you and filling you once more.

Another moan, choked and broken, fills the air when Kevin makes no move further to slide himself inside of you and, god, you’re going insane. You can feel his amusement tickling against the nape of your neck in the form of laughter. He needs no words to communicate what he wants to hear from you. 

Fuck.

He’s shameless, but you’re certainly not much better in being half of the party getting fucked just outside your apartment. If anything you are very, very much a willing, vocal participant of the encounter.

There’s only so much you can press your hips back and against him, nudge in just the right way that you’re teasing the very tip of his cock inside you, just past the initial ring of muscle--a taste of what you’ve been craving since the entire game started.

“Fuck,” you curse, trying to wiggle your hips to get him deeper inside you, but the motion proves fruitless as Kevin merely keeps himself from letting you shift back against him. He lets himself stay like that instead, just enough to fill your body with fire and your mind with want beyond what you think possible. 

“If you want it that badly,” Kevin’s voice lulls, cold and poisonous in a way that frustrates and arouses you. “Then just  _ tell _ me, dearest.”

He’s too calm, too composed, too in control of the moment and everything in it. There’s no way to call a bluff when one simply doesn’t exist, and quite honestly you’ve long lost what threads of shame you own when you pushed your ass back into the thick, wonderful shape of that tendril mere minutes before.

“Your--” you have to force the words from your lips, otherwise caught between your teeth. “Kevin, just fuck me already please-- _ please _ I swear to god I need your cock, I need it-” You struggle half-heartedly against his hold on all of you, trying to squeeze muscles around what of him is already inside you as if to encourage his lust to press himself deeper. “-you caught me, you won the game you just--I’m your prize, now fuck me until I. Can’t. Think.”

You emphasized your words with an attempt at writing, though there was so little give--his grip was so firm that you almost couldn’t move, utterly under his mercy and left with the coy invitation of your voice alone.

You’re not sure if it’s your voice, your pleading or simply because he’s grown bored of playing, but Kevin decides to shift with a passion to his movement. It’s swift, so much that you’re left gasping for air when his hips suddenly thrust forward, sheathing himself deep in one smooth movement. He fills you up all at once and doesn’t pause to let your body settle into the new, hard girth within you.

His pace is rough and hard and  _ perfect _ , everything and more that you want from him. He fucks like a beast, all growls and snarls and teeth nipping the back of your neck as if toying with the idea of legitimately biting down and restraining you in an echo of something primal and instinctual.

Where the tendril had been soft and tapered, squirming against your insides in a way that constantly teased you against the edge, Kevin’s dick is perfect and thick and hard and  _ solid _ . It’s able to reach every inch inside you that needs stimulation, over and over again in a perfect rhythm that leaves you gasping for enough air to moan something that vaguely sounds like his name.

“KevinKevinKevin-” the name is reverent and loving, sounding almost like a lust-distorted prayer that follows the pace of each and every thrust. Your nails scratch at the door, scrabbling desperately for purchase as the man’s unseen grip on one of your ankles force you to lift your leg up. Just slightly, but enough that suddenly everything feels deeper and harder and faster.

Somewhere in the haze of your need you’re certain that Kevin is speaking too. He’s saying something, deep behind all of the growling, all the distorted, white-noise-like sounds that’s spilling from somewhere behind you. 

Your name.

It’s mixed with little whispers of ‘you’re mine’ and ‘I caught you’ and even the occasional ‘you’ll be dripping soon’.

The words, or rather the  _ way  _ he says them in your ear and over your skin (so possessive, so warm) only serve to add fuel to the fire already burning away at your stomach, the flames lapping and searing hot inside you.

More. More oh gods above, you need more--just a little bit.

The edge creeps ever closer with every thrust and grip of hands at your hips, your waist, tugging you close enough that his chest is flush against your back and his body is twisted over yours in a stature of need. Thrust after thrust, making you shake, your knees feel weak, the world spin around you.

You’re about to tell Kevin that, to open your mouth and moan for more--

But suddenly your jaw is caught by a grip, face being turned-

Lips press to yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

It’s hot and hard and passionate, unlike anything you can describe. It’s like kissing a shadow, a warm shadow that’s both tangible and not, teeth sharp and almost cutting against your lips and tongue. Your body can’t handle the added sensation and it finally falls, tips and falls over the edge so hard that all you can do is sob into the kiss as Kevin drinks down every single noise like he owns them.

In some sense, he does.

Orgasm seizes through your body like a wave, spilling out from your stomach to the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It feels like you’re being twisted and bent and warped, touched all over by a haze of soft fingertips and held steadfast through every moment. Even as your body wanted to give out, Kevin holds you up, fucks you through every single wave of pleasure and euphoria until there’s nothing left for your body to give.

There’s a distant awareness that he’s cum too, though you don’t really realize it until your senses start to return and there’s a thick wetness rolling down your thighs, a mess that drips all the way down your legs and smears between your inner thighs when you finally think to shift, just a little bit against him.

Kevin withdraws slowly, gently, letting your body adjust, though he takes a pleasure in at the same time with the way he hums in satisfaction and presses one of his hands between your legs to press and smear at the mess between them.

“All marked up~” He sighs, almost dreamily. “I made quite the mess of you didn’t I, dearest? You should see your hips right now and….well, all of you, actually.”

You can  _ feel _ Kevin’s eyes trace over your body as he leans back, carefully letting you settle your weight back on your own two legs. Imagination can hardly figure out what he sees from his angle; you still bent forward, hips covered in finger-shaped marks and his seed dripping down the inside of your legs.

“Beautiful.”

Somehow, the single word from Kevin’s lips make you shiver, make your stomach flip in the faintest desire of wanting this all over again. Kevin’s hands lift back up to your hips before the thought can fully die away and gently spins your body around so he can back you up against the door.

He looks human, or as human as he normally looks with those empty eyes and too-wide, stitched smile. Despite having just fucked you in a way that would have required him to be in some state of undress, he’s impeccably clothed--though there’s just something about his form that looks a little  _ off _ , like there’s a shimer over him, a projection that hasn’t quite solidified.

“Dearest one,” he says, taking a deep breath in and looking at you with eyes of shadow and possessiveness. “That was quite a fun little game of ours, I think we’ll have to play again soon!”

And then he kisses you, hard and passionate in ways you can hardly understand. He holds you tight and crowds you against the door, presses you comfortably between his body and the solid, flat surface. You feel warm and loved.

Yes, the two of you will have to play again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request made on my WTNV writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://wtnvwritings.tumblr.com/)


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